


Perfect

by Dathtato



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Gen, JUST GIVE IT A TRY, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-12 08:37:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11733498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dathtato/pseuds/Dathtato
Summary: Who killed Jason Blossom?That was the question on everyone’s mind up until they had found out it was his own father. Jason was murdered by his father, Clifford.They all knew it now. Well they all believed that it was true. Even Clifford Blossom beliefs he murdered his son. But she knew the truth.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written when I had only seen the first episode. And holy- Betty as a character is perfect for so, so much. I've been wanting to write something along the lines of this for a while now and would appreciate any comments.
> 
> Also if you don't despise the word 'perfect' by the end of this work... well congratulations.

Who killed Jason Blossom?

That was the question on everyone’s mind up until they had found out it was his own father. Jason was murdered by his father, Clifford.

They all knew it now. Well they all believed that it was true. Even Clifford Blossom beliefs he murdered his son. But she knew the truth.

Betty knew the truth because she was the one to do it. Sweet, innocent, _perfect_ , good Betty was what everyone always called her. Each adjective like a knife to the gut, robbing her of her breath, raping her free will, murdering her bit by bit. Until she just… _snapped._

July the 2nd, sometime just before Betty’s curfew:

Eyes down, body small. Eyes down, body small. Eyes down, body small. That’s all she needed to do when walking to be invisible because even though it was holiday, Cheryl Blossom always seemed to find her in this tiny town. And the mockery that then flowed from the redheaded cunt’s mouth would leave her boiling beneath the surface and just a little more dead on the inside. She would never react because her mother needed her to be perfect, more so after Polly’s break from reality and that was what she was. _Perfect._ A horrible word with horrible connotations that always, in her mother’s opinion, didn’t quite mould to her in the right way. She wasn’t perfect enough, never perfect enough. She tried to be more perfect, but she wasn’t.

“Watch where you’re going.” Someone mumbled after a brief fumble with their phone, from their unexpected collide with her that sent her bumping into trash cans. “Oh great, it’s you.” Jason Blossom looked at her with venom in his eyes. “Come to me to tell me that I’m to blame for your sister going nuts. Shout at me like that bitch you call a mother.”

She almost snorted at that. It was a good insult to her mother. “No, I’m sorry.” She whisper-mumbled out, just trying to get past him. He wasn’t his sister, so he wasn’t as cruel but he could be.

He stepped in front of her, “You know what? I don’t accept your apology. You want to know the real reason your sister left, went insane? You. You are the reason. It’s all your fault Betty. Yours and only yours. Always looking for so much of her, expecting so much. You caused it all, you psycho.”

She looked up at him in shock, he continued on blaming her. Saying filthy things about Polly, about her. Her fingers curled back into her hands, her nails already pressing as hard as they could. She wouldn’t allow herself to become angry, wouldn’t allow herself to break. He went on and she pressed harder with each insult, feeling the semi-crescent moon points of her fingernails start to tear the skin. Blood oozing out of the eight new exits. Still she didn’t stop, not for the stinging nor the burn as her finger nails slid further into her hand, splitting fat and muscle the further in they went. Still she pressed harder as he yelled slurs at her, her nails fracturing near the bed and finally ripping off completely.

She brought her hands forward and watched them curiously, Jason not noticing through his mocking, the blood running from her palms as a few of the looser nails fell to the floor, the others remaining embedded. Her fingertips were also bleeding, the blood pouring from where eight of her nails had previously always been. She didn’t have nails… she didn’t have nails… she didn’t have nails.

It was an odd thought to have, her mind agreed. It wasn’t one she could ever expect to have. Not having nails. Nails meant she could keep herself perfect. She wasn’t perfect but she could try. Now she couldn’t try. It felt… freeing. As though she could finally breathe for once in her life. She could finally breath, she could breath and didn’t need to hide. She didn’t need to keep her eyes down or her body small. So she didn’t. Is this what happiness felt like? It’s not like she would know. Her life has been miserable since she could remember. With her mother, with Cheryl, with Archie and Jason and Kevin and all of them. All of them forcing themselves into her life, onto her, drowning her with expectations and degradations. She didn’t like them but she had to be perfect. So she had made herself perfect. She had made herself good and innocent and smart and _perfect._ Made herself have just the perfect number of friends and perfect scores and prefect everything. It all just always had to be perfect.

“And look the freak just mutilated herself some more.” He mocked but this time she heard.

“I’m not perfect.” She had known it all her life but it still was an epiphany somehow. Like she had been looking through a dirty lens, still able to see the image, but now the lens was clean.

“Well of course you’re not. You’re Betty Cooper, why on Earth would you of all animals ever be-” He fell to the floor.

“I’m not.” She said and hit his head with the trash can lid again. This time he didn’t look at her with sudden fear or shock, he simply didn’t look. He was unconscious. “I’m not perfect.” This new revelation was amazing. She wasn’t perfect. She could pretend to be, she had to pretend to be but she wasn’t.

She wasn’t perfect.

“Night mom. I love you.” Betty said in her usual manner, cheerful and perfect. She had gotten back just before curfew, done her chores and wished her parents good nights. Her parents hadn’t even noticed her hands during her mother’s rant. As soon as the door to her room gently, perfectly, clicked shut she headed for the window and watched. Watched for Archie through his bedroom window. His room was dark but his window open, he had snuck out again. She didn’t know where he went most nights and she could never ask because she had been perfect. She opened her own and sat on the sill, legs swinging on the outside as she prepared herself. It was just a one story climb but she didn’t want to climb. Perfect Betty would have climbed down, it was safer and smarter and the perfect choice; but she wasn’t perfect. So she jumped and fell, her knees buckling as she landed and finally sprawled onto the grass outside. It wasn’t a smart choice nor was it painless… but she liked it. She would need to do it more often.

Jason was heavy, really heavy for someone so small.  Finally she resorted to dragging him by the feet, his face bumping along getting little nicks and cuts as they went. It was late enough for Pop’s to be closed already and she stuck to the shadows as often as she could. As soon as she got them back to her house she would lock him up in the shed outside. It was supposed to be for her father’s garden equipment and his workshop but even he had fallen against her mother’s tyranny. He may as well be castrated.

July the 3rd, just after Betty’s parents left:

She looked at him, his face caked in filth except for the clean tear tracks revealing his pale skin. It was a shame to want to do this to someone so objectively handsome, but everyone one needs to start somewhere. She stood up from the floor and moved closer to him, he shuffled further back trying to put distance between them and as a result cornered himself between her and the wall he was chained to. The chain binding his neck was a metal dog collar, she and Polly had naively thought their mother would allow them to have a pet if they got it before asking and now no one had the dog, locked in on itself with a large brass lock. His hands and feet were bound by whatever she could find. Rope, duct tape, zip ties. It was overkill but she had never abducted someone before.

“I’m not perfect.” She smiled at him. He tried saying something but it came out mumbled. She reached to the back of his head and pulled on the duct tape, needing to circle his head five times before it was all off.

“Yes- yes you are. You’re perfect Betty. You- perfect.” He sobbed almost inaudibly through the new tears, from fear or pain or both. She didn’t care anymore. “Please Betty, just let me go. I’ll give you anything- I won’t tell anyone, nothing will happen I promise. Please just let me go.”

“Say it again!” Her rage spittle flew onto his face, mixing with the filth and tears. She wanted- needed to hear it again.

“Say- say what?”

“The perfect thing.” She was losing her patience now, she wasn’t perfect but she was smart. Smart enough to know that if the roles were reversed she would know what he was speaking about, so she expected the common courtesy of him knowing what she wanted.

“You are perfect, Betty. You’re perfect. You’re perfect. You’re perfect. You’re perfect.” She stopped his increasingly loud chant with more tape, making sure to wrap it around his mouth and head until she could no longer hear his screams.

“No, I’m not.”

July the 4th, on a road to Sweetwater River:

Kevin’s father’s truck handled badly. The clutch was sticky and the gear shift got stuck in third too much but it was better than dragging a dead body to the river. When Kevin had asked her why she needed it she had lied and said she found the mental hospital where Polly was.  Of course Kevin immediately agreed, offering her companionship for when she, the old her anyways, would inevitably cry. His persistence didn’t last too long thankfully or their might have been two bodies in the back, flimsily covered by a tarp. Stopping near the edge she hopped out and grinned into the sun that was baking her. She wasn’t perfect. That was all she needed to remember.

Removing his phone from her pocket she switched it on, the first time it had seen power since the moment Jason’s head had collided with a metal trash can lid. Countless messages and missed call notifications popped up. Most from Cheryl, a few from other family members and friends, and a final one from the police. They knew he was gone. It soured her mood a little but not enough. It was to be expected and why wouldn’t the police know he was gone. He was the star athlete at school and from the richest family in town, everyone would care that he hasn’t been seen in a few days. Going through them all and subsequently the rest of his phone, she learned more about him than ever. He was a disgusting human not just on the outside but apparently on the inside too.

_Cheryl, I’m going to be gone for a while. I can’t say where or why but tell the police that we had an accident by the river. That I drowned. That way they won’t look for me elsewhere. I promise to come back for you as soon as I’ve done what I need to. I love you more than Polly._

It was a simple text, the perfect Jason text. She shoved his phone into his pocket and finally threw his body into the river, watching it float down the river.

“Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream.” She sing-songed while starting the truck.

The days there after:

Watching Cheryl pretend that Jason had drowned during an ill-fated canoeing venture was entertaining. If she didn’t know what she knew she would believe every word that came out of the bitch’s mouth, but she knew and could see in Cheryl’s eyes, during her weaker moments of performance, the optimistic glint that just said she was waiting for her brother-lover to return. Incestuous pigs.

Life went on and she watched every moment she could, every time Cheryl verbally abused her she would curl her finger and sink her regrown nails in, not to keep on being perfect but to simply keep the act up. She pretended to cry, pretended to care, pretended to be perfect. She actually started falling in love with the moments that Cheryl, or her mother, or anyone really would berate her because she had a secret that no one knew. It was an orgasmic feeling to have, knowing that she had killed and no one could see she had changed.

The only downside was that she didn’t know who was next. She tried to way pro’s and con’s but it didn’t feel right. It didn’t measure up to Jason. So she would wait until she found someone that felt right.

Looking at Archie was the hardest part of the night so far. She needed to show admiration, adoration, and love on her face but it was harder now. She didn’t love him, not anymore, but she needed to pretend. As she confessed her, fake albeit, love to him she watched him blank completely on their conversation. Turning around Betty saw a girl enter the diner, a brunette in expensive clothes and a… was that a cloak? Why on earth would anyone wear a cloak in this day and age?

“Veronica Lodge.” The newcomer greeted.

And Betty just knew it was her.


	2. Veronica Lodge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty kills Veronica

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... um, yeah. Please don't crucify me. This is simply to increase my abilities when it comes to writing these types of works. No opinions in her are held by me and I preach compassion to all. Also I chickened out during this and purposefully skipped over the actual act.

Veronica Lodge.

Veronica Lodge.

Veronica fucking Lodge.

She was in all the ways that mattered the perfect next victim for Betty. Something about her just radiated the need to be killed. Whether it was the air of wealth, or the cautious happy smile, or her eyes that just screamed hidden depths. Maybe it was some amalgamation of it all, not just one thing but a blend of every little thing about her. She was _perfect_ even if Betty hated that word. She had never been a believer but she knew it had to have been her destiny to meet this girl. There was just no other excuse for it.

When Veronica had left, after some awkward pleasantries, the conversation between Betty and Archie had been stilted. Him too busy feeling ashamed of being distracted by a hot piece of ass, and her too distracted with not following the girl immediately to do the deed. She was almost foaming at the mouth with anticipation of how, when, how long, with what, and the sounds she could imagine coming from the girl. Oh the sounds she could imagine, it was a miracle she hadn’t flooded herself during her fantasies. But she needed to appear perfect and she needed to do better than she had with Jason. He had been fun and all but the memories were losing their pleasing effect.

So she would wait and befriend the girl. Learn her habits, learn her likes, and learn her. In the mean time she could look for places in which to do it, look for things to use. With that she left Archie, still acting perfect.

She and Veronica were in front of Cheryl now, being told their audition for cheer squad didn’t have enough _fire._ She was sorely tempted to show Cheryl her real fire and taunt her with all the things she had done to Jason. Her mother may be a whore but she had only leaked the less horrendous things done to Jason. No one knew about the castration, nor which orifices those parts had been scattered into. But Betty didn’t do it, right now she had to be Perfect Betty, the Betty everyone knew and liked. Well the Betty most people liked.

Then Veronica was touching her and she wanted to slap the bitch, no one was allowed to touch her, not anymore. And lastly they were kissing, in front of Cheryl and her cronies, and Betty felt herself explode inside. An explosion of rage and disgust and wanton need to kill. She would do it tonight, to hell with the cabin in the woods she had found. She would do it right in Veronica’s bedroom while her mother slept down the hall from her. Still she pretended to be perfect, she took the kiss like a champ in her opinion and as soon as they separated she slowly and deliberately rubbed their combined smeared lipstick away. Hopefully that was enough _fire_ for Cheryl because other than that she didn’t know what would do. It wasn’t even important because it didn’t matter anymore, when she had been perfect she knew she needed to be on this extra-curricular because of the positive praise it usually got from universities, but now it didn’t matter because university didn’t matter. She only went along with it because it protected her from being exposed, from being ripped away from killing and ripped away from that orgasmic pleasure she found in fooling everyone.

Now Cheryl was insulting her, coercing her to tell Veronica about Polly and with planned thought she slowly slid her fingernails through the flesh of her palms again, reopening the barely healed wounds from last time. Her hands were littered with hundreds upon hundreds of tiny white scars from all the years she had been doing it but now they were there to remind her of what she gained. Veronica on the other hand wasn’t taking, or pretending to, Cheryl’s bitchiness and with an impressive if somewhat equally bitchy speech they both became members of Riverdale’s very own Vixen’s.

_My specialty is ice._ Veronica’s words rang through her head as she lazily did her homework. The pages in front of her not even being seen as she salivated over her future actions tonight, like a starved dog expecting a meal. With a knife, with a lighter, with an apple. The options were quite literally endless and she wouldn’t know what exactly she was going to use until she got to the Pembrooke.

“Night mom. Night dad. I love you.” Betty said in her usual manner, cheerful and perfect, once it was near curfew. As soon as the door to her room gently, perfectly, clicked shut she headed for the window and waited. Waited to see if Archie was home or if there were any passer-by’s on the street. His room was lit and he lay on his bed, writing on crumpled sheets, while listening to music. She opened her own window and sat on the sill, legs swinging on the outside as she prepared herself. This would be only the second time she had jumped from the window, the last time leaving her sprawled on the grass, but she was determined to do better this time. Never to do it perfectly but better. With a one large gulp of air she pushed herself off and fell. This time though she managed to stay on her feet and she smiled through her aching knees. That sudden rush of adrenalin she got though was amazing and again she felt the need to do it more often in the future.

She stuck to the shadows for as much as she could while travelling to the Pembrooke. It was both hard and easy in a small town like this, the main street was always lit well but any other street only had the odd light cast here and there. She hid across the street from the building and looked at the windows, trying to spot one that might just be open. Again she felt as though this were destiny when she found one within arm’s reach on the ground floor was wide open, just begging her to use it. Looking left then right she sprinted across the street and jumped for it, a tiny grunt being released from her body as soon as it smacked into the wall. With effort she managed to pull herself up and peaked in. She could now see why the window was open, it was Veronica’s butler’s room and he must have preferred getting air into the room during the night. Silently stepping into the room she hurried through and left the man to his unknown guilt.

She couldn’t risk the elevator so she took the stairs, all three meagre flights of them. The lodge family really had fallen on their version of hard times and yet that insipid girl still wore bloody pearls to school. No, she could pawn them off or sell them and help her mother out financially but she was selfish. Once she reached the top she started scrounging around for what she was going to use and boy oh boy were there many, many options; each more delightful than the last. Finally she gave up on just picking one. She hadn’t used just one with Jason so why should she know. She took a few bottles of wine, a corkscrew, four very large knifes, a bread knife, a soup spoon and a culinary torch. Jason was ice, veronica would be fire. Creeping into her _friend’s_ bedroom she set her items down and went to her closet, needing something to shut the bitch up and tie her down. Opening the closet door she almost gasped at the sheer amount of clothes the walk-in closet contained. From evening dresses to casual attire and everything both in between and on the outside of that spectrum. Grabbing blindly at everything she made many trips till all of it was on the floor around Veronica, who still slept contently on her stomach.

Grabbing a few panties and a bra she slowly, carefully climbed onto the bed till she was straddling Veronica’s back. This was the make or break part, if Veronica was allowed to make any noise that would wake up her mother then Betty was done for. Slowly she bunched up the array of different coloured panties, some lace and some satin, and pushed it into Veronica’s mouth, pausing momentarily to not disturb the girl too much and risk waking her. Then came the bra, she pulled it tight and wrapped it around Veronica’s stuffed open mouth and head, tying the straps into a tight knot to secure it in place. With that done, Veronica wouldn’t be able to make much noise at all, and what she did make would only be audible for Betty to hear. Like a private showing.

Grabbing some other clothes she moved silently, efficiently, methodically around the girl’s bed and secured her as best as possible to the bed posts. Not perfectly but well. When she was finally done she returned to the chair were all her items were lying in wait for her, just ready to serve her. She took them all and arranged them neatly on the bedside table. She only kept the bread knife in her hand and re-straddled Veronica’s back.

“Veronica, hey Veronica. Wake up.” She whispered into her _friend’s_ ear. The rich brunette must really have been a heavy sleeper to not have woken up by now. “Veronica.” She tried again and again it failed. Taking the corkscrew and a bottle of wine she opened it, replaced the corkscrew, and dumped the entire bottle of what she assumed was very expensive wine onto the brunette’s head. That got her attention and suddenly Betty felt as though she were riding a very constrained bull. Veronica bucked up and down and squirmed to the sides as much as she could with the constraints and underneath a person until Betty leaned forward and settled her entire wait onto the body beneath her. “Morning sleepy-head, hope you slept well.” She smiled a little at her own new brand of humour. She hadn’t even realised she had it the first time she used it, the first time being when she dumped Jason’s mutilated body into the river and drove off. “Oh it’s Betty by the way.” She didn’t know if Veronica knew that yet or not, it would be understandable if she didn’t; what with them knowing only each other for like two days now and her victim probably being stressed and freaked the fucked out. Once she said her name Veronica bucked again and hit a very sensitive spot on Betty’s body. “Settle down there cowboy- cowgirl? - at least buy me dinner first.” She chuckled at her own joke but now she did have a problem there to contend with… later. Her arousal would only grow as time progressed and later she would have lots of it. “Okay, so before I do this, kill you, I feel the need to tell you truth. I’m not perfect. I tried to be for so long, I did everything perfectly, but one day with the help of Jason I realised I wasn’t. You remember hearing about Jason right? Well he helped me realise it and then I killed him. It was wonderful to put it mildly. In truth it was like having multiple orgasms at once and they just wouldn’t stop. But it faded, it faded until it was almost non-existent anymore. Then you walked into the diner and I could feel myself get butterflies, flapping around in my stomach as they all screamed you were the answer. So thank you for- for… being here, coming into my life, being my second.”

“For helping me remember, I’m not perfect.”

She rode Veronica as the girl thrashed beneath her, not stopping. Finally Betty’s patience wore thin and she slapped the brunette’s drenched head, resulting in the immediate halt of her movements. “Good.” She took the bread knife and pressed it into Veronica’s sleep wear. Cutting the silk top and short to shreds and exposing the girl’s flawless, expensive body.

Betty surveyed her not perfect masterwork from a chair near the bed, Veronica was lying on the bed too tired and sore to fight anymore but not cry. There were four large knife’s coming out of her hands and feet, anchoring her body further to the bed. Close to a hundred little punctures lined her back from the corkscrew, which was finally deeply implanted into her spine. The bread knife she had used to carve H and L into her back and then followed that with the culinary torch. She had somewhere in the middle of all of it decided to blame it on Veronica’s mother and that was why she had burned the initials into her _friend’s_ back. She had also used the torch to burn smaller versions of the initials into her victim’s back, legs and arms. Then she had dumped the remaining bottles of wine onto the brunettes and broke the empty bottle, shoving tiny shards into inappropriate places.

She had been right earlier on multiple accounts. The noises Veronica had made were mind-blowing and her arousal had only built and built. She trailed a hand underneath her jeans and panties, and found her clit, it was rock hard as she squeezed it and moaned inwardly. Betty pinched it again as her eyes fixated on every tiny drop of blood, every nick, and every injury before she finally penetrated herself with two fingers. She couldn’t stay long anymore as the sun was due to rise in an hours’ time but she fucked herself as hard as she could for as long as she could, until she came in her own hand. She removed her sticky fingers and watched her own essence slowly crawl down her digits before she sucked them clean, the taste not horrible but definitely something to get used to.

She walked over and grabbed the soup spoon, the only item to not have been used as of yet. She lifted the nearly dead girl’s head by the hair and jaggedly cut he throat with the spoon, watching the blood pool out and Veronica finally die.

Leaving she decided to masturbate again when she got home otherwise she wouldn’t get through the day.

There was one thing that killing had shown her.

She wasn’t perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This work is purely fictional, any relations to people or places is purely coincidental. It is also not intended to offend anyone, nor should it. Though I strive to implant some fact, truth or opinion in here it is meant purely to be in a fictional; view's or opinions may not necessarily represent the author's.

**Author's Note:**

> So?
> 
> Disclaimer: This work is purely fictional, any relations to people or places is purely coincidental. It is also not intended to offend anyone, nor should it. Though I strive to implant some fact, truth or opinion in here it is meant purely to be in a fictional; view's or opinions may not necessarily represent the author's


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